Slowly
by kateandharvey
Summary: While Juliet had fallen asleep promptly, it would take Carlton nearly three hours. He would lay in bed, awake, and only able to see the blue of Juliet's eyes and the smile on her face when she told him he was her best friend. He would touch his cheek where her lips had brushed, smell the peach scent of her hair, and remember the way the heat of her body had felt so close to his.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I've found my way back to the Psych fandom. I've tried to write Psych once before, but gave up on it rather quickly. I'm hoping that I have a better understanding of the characters and a higher quality of writing. Let me know. :-)

 **Slowly**

If someone had told him six years ago that he would be here now, in his favorite chair in front of the TV, a glass tumbler in his hand and a bottle of its contents on the coffee table... he would've told them to find Buzz McNab and talk to _him_ about their far-fetched ideas. Instead, he was the sorry sap in the recliner.

Not only was he a sorry son of a bitch, but he was a classic _asshole_.

This term was something he was comfortable with, for the most part. Carlton had been identified as an asshole for most of his life. Asshole was the word used by peers in high school, other students that sat next to him in class in college, and nearly every co-worker he'd ever had. As he moved through adulthood after graduation, most of the identifying became less straight forward. Instead of the teenagers and twenty-somethings that had snarled it in his face, the word was now whispered behind water coolers, mumbled under breath between cups of coffee, or spoken nonverbally-with looks shared between any groups of people he shared a room with.

Even so, Carlton Lassiter was someone that didn't really mind. The opinion others had of him was something out of his control. He lived his life the way he wanted to live it, and he was... _fine_. If those around him chose to judge him, then so be it.

The only person to _never_ so much as _gesture_ to the concept was Juliet. The opposite of Carlton, Juliet was happy, sunny, optimistic, and passionate about the world around her. A quick scowl in the direction of any mumbled derogatory term for Carlton that touched her ears was enough to end the offender's sentence in its tracks. Then again, Juliet often called him an _ass_ herself, but never an _asshole_. It was a very, "only I can call my momma fat" mentality. Carlton didn't understand it, because while he was, admittedly, an idiot, he wasn't stupid enough to think Juliet cared about him. Carlton, though... he cared for Juliet. More than he'd like to (and would) admit.

Juliet O'Hara was everything Carlton wasn't. She treated Carlton with respect. She was never afraid of his scowl, or put off by his tone. Juliet looked at Carlton like he knew what he was doing, and dammit, he did, because he was the damn Head Detective. Juliet seemed to _-_ dare he say- _accept_ Carlton the way he was. If Carlton made a lame joke (as none of his jokes were anything _but_ lame) Juliet would smile her shining grin and laugh a giggle that came from deep in her stomach and out between her lips. When Carlton was "in a mood," as Juliet would call it, the junior partner would shake her head in annoyance, and with just a slight color of red dusting her chest, would call tell him stiffly, "stop being an ass." Even though he didn't care, truly, about the names everyone called him- it was still different when _Juliet_ responded to him in a derogatory way. In some way, Juliet's name calling always had a softness to it. It was never harsh. It never seemed to be because she didn't _like_ him (although Carlton was not under the impression she _hated_ him) but it seemed to be because she was trying to _help_ him in some way. Carlton would never understand it, but he knew- as much as he _knew_ he was an ass- that no matter what he asked from O'Hara, whatever he needed, she would do it for him. It was a nice feeling, and because of it he considered her his only true friend and even a best friend, were he to be juvenile.

Carlton was resigned to the fact that he cared for Juliet much more than Juliet probably cared for him, but what could it hurt? He stayed where he was supposed to be and was cautious not to cross any lines and freak her out. Juliet stayed her sunny, caring-for-him-on-some-weird-level self, and they operated as an effective partnership and as _pretty good_ friends.

This way of thinking would prove to be dangerous.

The dark haired Head Detective knew that there was no way around where he was at now. He didn't get to his position by being unaware. Carlton knew his marriage with Victoria was not a good one. He made a lot of mistakes, but he'd liked being married. He enjoyed belonging to someone and someone belonging to him. His marriage was not one of his best experiences and the way it ended was not one of his proudest. Coming from the ruins of his failed marriage was Lucinda Barry. Lucinda was a good partner, but even though he was sleeping with her, she wasn't really his _friend_. He didn't call her at midnight with a thought on a case. She wasn't his first text when he saw something that reminded him of the chief, Henry, or heaven forbid, McNab. When he needed a ride, he didn't ask _her_. He was her partner, she was his, and he was sleeping with her. Period. The end. That was all their relationship was. Victoria was playing with his feelings, he was coming to grips with who he truly was, and he was losing the only person who had ever, truly, _really_ , seemed to care about him. Lucinda was available, she was willing, and he'd _liked being married_ , so gripping for something similar seemed the natural answer.

It wasn't.

The affair left a black mark on his record, and the amount of mumbled vulgarity had only doubled in the station. After the affair, not only had Carlton been left with the aftermath of his divorce to clean up, but he was also standing in the leftovers of his career.

Now, currently, Carlton was who he was. He was older. He was bitter. He was angry. He had an unnatural annoyance with squirrels. He kept a black book of all those he had arrested. He had a big nose, big ears, and he resembled Mr. Bean. As if that wasn't enough, he was pessimistic, unforgiving, and a real pain in the ass to be around.

Not only did he fit the concept of, "damaged goods" so well, but as of recently, he was a sad son of a bitch with no real hope for the future.

Carlton did not know how long it had been. He didn't even know, specifically, _when_ it had happened. All he knew was that on Tuesday last week, October 10th, he realized he was hopelessly in love with his partner.

Long after everyone had gone home for the night -around ten or eleven- he was walking out of the station with Juliet.

"I'm so tired." She had said.

Without even so much as glancing in her direction, Carlton had known she meant more than physically. The case was _hard_. Children were involved. Children and their own _father_. A definition of the reason they did the work they did and simultaneously a reason to _stop_ doing the work they did. They had been working long days, even longer nights, and the physical toll was nothing compared to what they were working through emotionally. When they reached her car, he paused. "I know, O'Hara." He'd said, "It's a tiring case."

She searched her bag for her keys for a few moments without responding to him. He stood by to make sure she made it inside of her bug safely, and as she was searching, he was wondering again _why_ she carries those huge bags- much to large to _ever_ find _anything_ in, let alone a set of jingling keys in the dark parking lot- but before he could ask her, she started shaking. "I just-I can't-" she looked up at him, and he saw her eyes welling up. "They were _kids_ , Carlton."

He reached for her at once, his hand grasping her wrist and puling it out of her bag gently. "I know, O'Hara." He repeated, his hand falling from her wrist as he let it dangle at her side. "C'mon," he gestured, "I'll drive you home."

She shook her head. "You don't have to drive me." She wiped at her cheeks. After a big breath in, she straightened her shoulders. "I'm fine. Sorry."

Carlton's brow furrowed slightly. It took him a beat, but he realized she thought he was judging her for her tears. "O'Hara.." he started, but her eyes met his again, blue eyes blood shot red, and tears pouring out, and he couldn't help but notice how the blue of her eyes grew deeper and more intense in color. "Juliet." He tried again, "You're exhausted. Let me drive you home."

"You have to be tired, too." She shook her head, seemingly to herself, and then she looked back at him. "Aren't you tired?"

He nodded, trying to ignore the voice telling him how beautiful she looked like this. _She's beautiful. Yeah, and she's upset, asshole._ "I am." Finally, he answered her. "But I also had three more cups of coffee than you." A pause. He couldn't read her. "Let me drive you home."

Juliet looked at him for a moment, and then relented. "Okay." She smiled a teary smile. "Thank you."

"What are partners for?"

They didn't talk on the ride. He drove them in companionable silence, with the radio softly playing in the background. The night was dark, and while it was nearly midnight, it was heavier- more like two or three. When they reached her apartment, he parked effortlessly in front of her building, and without a word, unbuckled and exited the car. He opened her car door for her to get out, and followed her to see her safely to her door.

When her key was in the lock and turned, he bid her goodnight.

She turned to face him. "Thank you, Carlton." Her hand rested on his forearm.

He shrugged. "Can't have you crashing." _I don't know what I would do without you._

Juliet took a step closer to him. "I don't just mean for the ride." His eyes showed how lost he was. She sighed, and the hand on his forearm felt like it was burning. "For everything."

"Partners." He repeated. "There's no way anyone else would take me."

She smiled. "That isn't true."

"Only because-" he thought better of it, and stopped.

"Because what?" Her eyes widened slightly. "Because I've _softened_ you?"

He shook his head. "That's not what I was going to say." It was.

She smiled larger now. "I think it was."

"You're exhausted, O'Hara. Delusional."

"Mhm." She smiled still. A moment passed of them just staring at each other. He opened his mouth to bid her goodnight again, and she spoke. "You're a good person, Carlton." He huffed in protest. "The best."

Carlton felt his cheeks getting warm. "You're the only one to think so."

Juliet got closer still, by means of wrapping her arms around his middle tightly. "You're my best friend." She said when she pulled away.

He said nothing. His tongue had suddenly become ten pounds. He couldn't move it.

A kiss to his cheek, and then, "Goodnight. Let me know you made it home, okay?"

He nodded in agreement, and then she was gone. Disappearing into the apartment.

Fifteen minutes later, when he had just taken off his shirt to change, his phone buzzed. _Safe?_

He waited only a moment to reply. _Home_. He typed. He most definitely did not feel safe.

She did not reply.

The next morning, the 11th, a Wednesday, he would find out she fell asleep as soon as she received his reply. At this knowledge, his stomach would tighten and his heart would be approximately 25% faster.

While Juliet had fallen asleep promptly, it would take Carlton nearly three hours. He would lay in bed, awake, and only able to see the blue of Juliet's eyes and the smile on her face when she told him he was her best friend. He would touch his cheek where her lips had brushed, smell the peach scent of her hair, and remember the way the heat of her body had felt so close to his.

He would come to the conclusion he was in love with her, and had been for some time.

The night of the 11th would look much the same.

He would come to two conclusions that night.

He was in love with his partner.

He needed to _not be_ in love with his _partner_.

The morning of the 12th, a Thursday, he would start fixing it.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I've found my way back to the Psych fandom. I've tried to write Psych once before, but gave up on it rather quickly. I'm hoping that I have a better understanding of the characters and a higher quality of writing. Let me know. :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or any of its characters. I make no profit from this story. It is purely for enjoyment. Free to read, free to like or dislike, and free to review.

 **Slowly**

 **Chapter 2**

As Juliet walked up the steps to the station that Thursday morning, she had a lot on her mind. For one, Shawn was driving her insane. She had broken up with him over a week ago and he still would not leave her be. _But Jules,_ He texted her, an hour after she left Psych, _I love you_. Her thoughts replied while her thumbs hit, "ignore." _Well, I love you, too, but love just ain't enough, Bucko._

Now, 12 days later, he seemed to have calmed down. Juliet felt guilty, but she also felt... _free_. She felt like she no longer had to constantly take care of a child, argue to have her opinion heard, or struggle to have a night alone with her boyfriend. Each day when she got out of bed, she felt lighter. Granted, she did hurt for Shawn. She mourned what the relationship could've been, but that only lasted for a few days. After those days, she realized she was mourning the potential she'd painted in her head. The actual relationship had very few benefits.

Shawn was funny. He made her laugh, he made her feel pretty- like the ultimate 10- and he clearly loved her. But Shawn didn't _love_ her in a way that made her love herself. He didn't make her tummy drop or her heart beat fast. When he said _I love you_ , he meant he loved her for who he found her to be- not what she was. Inside, Juliet was complex. She had trust issues and difficulty with control. She loved her solitude as much as she loved communication. After a long day, she wanted nothing more than to go home and sit on her couch with a large glass of wine and her favorite book. Juliet was independent. She'd spent many years trying to prove herself- a woman- on the force. She'd taken a long time to identify who she truly was, and how being who she was _while_ being a decorated police officer could fit together. Only in the past few years had she finally come to accept that painting her nails Bubble Gum Pink on a Friday night while watching The Notebook had nothing to do with the way she took down a perp with a swift knee to the groin on Saturday morning. She was who she was and that was all that she was.

While Juliet felt guilty for only needing a little over a week to recover from her relationship with Shawn, she also knew it was a long time in the coming. Shawn wanted someone to fit into his life. She wanted to build a life with someone.

Now that it was (finally) over, she felt happy. She felt like herself again.

Regret was _not_ the reason she had yet to tell Carlton about the end of her relationship.

It was fear.

He had been so angry- no, _disappointed_ \- with her for not telling him _about_ the relationship in the first place, she knew that the longer she waited the deeper she was in. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't do it. She had tried. _My, how she'd tried._ She just... _couldn't_.

It was stupid, really. Juvenile, even. Juliet was a grown woman and her partner, her _best friend_ , should _not_ be someone she was so afraid to speak to. Yet, she was.

She wasn't afraid of Carlton's disappointment in her or her failed relationship with the psychic. She could handle his snide remarks and his muffled, "about time." She wasn't even upset at herself, nor did she have some weird pride that made her not want to admit she'd failed.

It was what had happened last week. When he took her home, after such a long night, and he looked at her. He had _really_ looked at her. He looked at her the way a _man_ looks at his _best friend_. He'd smiled that smile that said he finally _trusted_ her again and he had finally _accepted_ her relationship with Shawn. It sounded stupid, even in her own head, but Carlton had finally adjusted to the new way things were, and she did not want to rock the boat. Carlton Lassiter was not a man that easily adjusted to anything, let alone something like this.

Juliet was so much on edge that she'd even been threatening Shawn, and Gus, naturally, to keep the break-up under wraps for a while. _In case you change your mind?_ Shawn had asked. _No, so I can tell Carlton in my own time._

Since the night Carlton looked at her the way he did, she had also been having... thoughts. These thoughts were of a certain... nature, and they involved her partner. Juliet didn't even know where to begin with those, but she was pretty sure that the things she was feeling in her gut and her heart had been existent for quite some time. She'd been ignoring them, fearing what they were, and even now, that she was _pretty_ sure she was _in love_ with her freakin' _partner_ , she was still trying to keep them on the back burner. The fact that Carlton even seemed to trust her again completely overshadowed the fact he wasn't only looking at her the way a man looks at his best friend, but also the way a man looks at a _woman_.

In her head that was full of jumbled thoughts, Juliet had decided on a plan of action. This Thursday, the 12th of October, she would finally tell Carlton about her break-up with Shawn. She would start treating him as her _friend_ again, and everything else would just wait out until she felt like dealing with it. (Maybe never).

With this in mind, Juliet awoke that morning, and texted Carlton a single word as she was opening the door to her Bug and getting inside. _Coffee?_ She wrote.

 _I'm alright._ He replied. Another text followed, _Thanks._

She frowned. That was weird. Carlton never passed up an opportunity for coffee from somewhere that _wasn't_ the station, but it was a Thursday. (She pretended that meant something to her, but it didn't.)

Regardless, Juliet had brushed Carlton's odd response off and continued on her way. Now, as she entered the bullpen, her Dunkin' coffee in hand, she was pretty optimistic about her day. Nervous to talk to Carlton, but hopeful.

As usual, she headed to her desk, plopping her oversized bag in her bottom right desk drawer, and took a seat. "Heya, partner." She greeted, smiling across the desk.

Carlton didn't even look up from the file he was reading. "Hi, O'Hara." He took only a moment before he continued, "So I was reading over the Merada case, and I think we missed something."

Again, odd. Carlton wouldn't even make eye contact, but maybe he was focused on the case. Juliet took a deep breath, and replied with genuine interest, "Really? What?"

* * *

"Shawn and I broke up."

He didn't even glance at her.

It was that same Thursday, October the 12th. Although, it was technically Friday, October 13th (wasn't that convenient!) because it was no longer 11:59pm and now 12:00am. It turned out that the day started moving pretty quickly once Carlton and Juliet examined their oversight. Nothing that would get them into trouble, as they definitely would've caught it eventually, but it was something that would speed up the case considerably. After they chatted, revisited the morgue, the lab, three witnesses, _and_ ran everything they were thinking by the Chief, it was nearly five and they still hadn't eaten lunch.

A quick stop at a drive-thru ( _Fast food does not make a man, O'Hara.)_ and they were seated in front of Merada's own apartment, waiting for him to _return_ from his office so they could catch him _leaving_ again.

He didn't return home until eight and he had yet to leave. They were counting on him leaving for the warehouse where they were _pretty sure_ he kept his stash of cocaine, but by the time it hit eleven they were wondering if he was ever really dealing cocaine at all.

To her credit, Juliet made it to 11:59pm before she broke her reserve, and that's how she started it. Carlton was arguing with her as to why there is no way Pooh Bear could be friends with Piglet, _Bears like meat, O'Hara. Pigs are included,_ and she gained her nerve while losing her mind and let the words fall from her mouth.

"Shawn and I broke up."

Carlton did not blink. His face did not change.

She wondered if he'd heard her. "Carlton?"

He shook his head, as if shaking himself from his thoughts, but continued to stare straight ahead through the windshield. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry to hear that, O'Hara."

Juliet couldn't think straight, couldn't even comprehend what he was saying. She had expected so many reactions, but this was not a response she was betting on and she was _sure_ he was confused, but she couldn't _be_ sure unless she asked- "What? _Why?_ "

She really needed to get ahold of her mouth and its connection to her brain.

Carlton's blue eyes spared only a single glance at her face before he seemed to study her body. With a once-over, he met her eyes again and replied, shrugging, "Relationships are hard." He cleared his throat, and shifted in his seat. "Spencer's an asshat to lose you."

Juliet was confused for half a second and then, "Maybe I wasn't clear. I broke up with Shawn."

Carlton nodded, as to accept and process this new information. He took so long in the silence she was just about to prompt him again when he said, genuinely, "I hope you find what makes you happy, O'Hara."

It was that when she started crying.

She didn't even know she was at first. Suddenly, her throat became dry and her eyes became watery and her stomach felt like it was holding her heart. It wasn't until she felt the water drip down the point of her chin where each track met and she heard his sighed, "O'Hara..." that she knew. When she did, however, she started frantically wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hands.

"O'Hara?" He said.

She sniffled. "I'm fine. Sorry."

He didn't respond and she didn't know who this person was anymore.

She was about to ask him what was going on, why he was giving her the cold shoulder, why he was being so... so... _rational_ and so... _not Carlton_ when he opened his mouth instead.

Staring straight ahead over the steering wheel in the Crown Vic in a back alley of an (alleged) cocaine dealer's apartment, Carlton Lassiter spoke, and told Juliet O'Hara, "I don't think we should be friends anymore."


End file.
